


Second Chances

by LadyVader23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin Skywalker Gets Therapy, Anakin Skywalker Redemption, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Except that they remember their past life, F/M, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Humor, Mix of modern and original setting stuff, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker Feelings, Romance, idk how to classify it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVader23/pseuds/LadyVader23
Summary: After his death, Anakin is given another chance to fix things and wakes up in our world, where he quickly meets familiar faces, most of whom don't know who he is. Meanwhile, he struggles to come to terms with what he's done, hoping that he can win Padme's heart again and remaster the Force before it's too late.Re-Edited.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60





	1. A Slim Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited version of my very first SW fanfic. I've grown a lot and my understanding of characters have definitely changed since 2015, so I thought I'd edit and post here. I'll also be splitting it up unlike the first version into two, maybe three parts, because while this first part is focused on Anakin and Padme's relationship, the second part focuses more on Luke and Anakin (because while I enjoy writing Anakin and Padme, my heart and soul belongs to writing fics about Luke and his disaster dad.

**Aboard the Second Death Star...**

"You already have, Luke. You were right." 

His son-- _Luke._ His son was beautiful. He hadn't thought that word in so many years, but there was no other way to describe Padme's son. 

His son. 

"You were right about me. Tell your sister…" Vader….no, _Anakin_ wished with a painful lurch in his chest that he had been able to see his daughter. Just once. But he could feel his life slipping away, and he knew that wasn't possible. "You were right."

He looked at his son and really saw him for the first time—Luke looked so much like his younger self, with honey golden hair, soulful clear blue eyes, strong jawline... Anakin's chest swelled with pride, pride that only a parent could feel for their child.

It didn't last long. Soon his vision began to fail, his eyes closing. For once though, he didn't feel darkness—not the sort of darkness that came from the Dark Side at least. 

It felt oddly freeing. 

"Father?" His son called to him. 

He wanted to open his mouth, to assure Luke that it would be alright, but he didn't have the strength. 

Distantly, he heard his precious son again. "I won't leave you…"

But Anakin was gone, his spirit surrounded by the light.

He stood alone, no longer wearing his suit, but instead the traditional robes of a Jedi Master. His throat tightened—he had turned to the light at the end, but could he really view himself as a Jedi? He didn't feel worthy. Not after everything he'd done as Vader….

_You are no longer Vader._

Anakin's head whipped around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. He appeared to be alone. Everything was white--blindingly white. It wasn't a place that had anything to do with the Dark Side, he could sense that much… but it also didn't feel completely controlled by the Light Side, either. It felt like it was more of an odd in-between, like the Force couldn’t decide what to do with his soul.

He didn’t know how long he stood in that white space. It could have been moments, days, months, years...but soon, images began to form. 

There was Luke surrounded by a celebration. Their eyes met, and a wistful smile spread on his son's lips. Princess Leia approached Luke from behind, wrapping her arms around him…

Wait, was _Leia_ his daughter?

Before he could fully process that possibility, Luke was turning to go with her, and the scene was changing…

Images from his past. 

First as Darth Vader—the killings. The oppression. Anakin wanted to turn away, but he couldn't. Bitterness and guilt slammed into him, almost knocking the air out of his lungs.

Who better to be judged than he? He deserved whatever punishment was in store for him.

He saw Obi-Wan, saw him as an old man, saw him as they fought on the Death Star. He saw him that horrible night on Mustafar as they fought, lightsabers blazing in the dark. _"I have failed you Anakin,"_ Now as an experienced man, Anakin could hear the genuine sorrow and pain in his former Master's voice, " _I have failed you."_

Then the scene switched.

Then he saw Padme and the betrayal on her face as he choked her, the pleading in her eyes as she begged him to run away with her. They were the words he had always wanted her to say, but he hadn't believed her. 

And he hurt her. 

He knew now that she hadn't died by his hand…not directly, at least. She had survived long enough to give birth to their children.

He wondered how long she’d lived. He’d spent years searching for the truth, and he only knew that she’d died sometime after his children’s birth. But he supposed knowing wouldn’t change what had happened…

What he’d done. 

The scene changed—this one was not his memory, but it ripped him apart from the inside just as much as his own memories. Padme lay on a cold, steel table in white, her skin pale, her bouncy curls limply framing her face. Obi-Wan stood at her side, where Anakin should have been, begging her to fight. " _There is good in him,"_ She whispered, and with a painful lurch Anakin recognized her hope and determination in Luke, " _I know there is…still…"_

The scene disappeared, and Anakin was left standing in the whiteness, shaking violently.

How had he gone so wrong? He knew the answer, but he still wished with every fiber of his being that he could go back and change it. 

He should have trusted the Force. He should have listened to Padme. He should have…

But he hadn't. And it had hurt his wife. It had made his children orphans. It had severed his relationship with his best friend and mentor. It had destroyed the freedom of an entire galaxy. It had taken countless lives, and ruined countless more.

He wished he could make himself vanish from existence. What good had it been to be the Chosen One? Even if he had fulfilled his destiny in the end by destroying the Emperor, it hadn't saved the ones he'd loved. He looked down at the robes he wore in utter disgust, his hands going up to fist in the rough material. 

He didn't deserve to wear the robes of a Jedi. 

He was no Jedi.

_You can do it all over again._

Anakin froze. That voice again. A voice he thought he should recognize, but...no. He couldn’t. It didn’t even really sound like one person’s voice, but rather multiple people speaking at once. 

"What are you talking about?" He asked the void. 

_You can choose to start over, in a new world, in a new galaxy, far, far away…you can become the man you could have been._

Anakin opened his mouth and then closed it, unable to speak. What was this voice? Could he even trust it? Was that even possible? It shouldn't have been possible…

But what if it was?

It could also be a trap. A trap to let him believe he was starting over, and right when he was happiest, he would be ripped back into his misery. 

It would have been a fitting punishment.

But what if it wasn't? Could he really give that chance, however slim and impossible, up?

_Would you like to start over, Anakin Skywalker?_

He still wasn't sure he believed it was real. He was still pretty certain this was a trap. But at this point, he had nothing to lose. He was already dead.

Slowly, he nodded, and as quickly as it had come, the whiteness faded to black.

* * *

"What do you think of these colors?" Padme Amidala held up a stack of blue sample paint cards for her best friend Mindy to see. Mindy dropped the box she'd been carrying on the kitchen table and glanced at them for a split second before she picked up the box cutter and began slicing through the tape on the box.

"We are not turning this house into a beach house." She said as she began pulling out dishware.

"Why not?" Padme frowned, turning the cards over to look at the colors herself. She had spent almost an hour at Home Depot playing with the virtual color sampler to find these colors.

"Just because we live near to the beach doesn't mean that we actually have to turn our house into a stereotypical beachfront home. Can't we just, I don't know, decorate it completely opposite of a beach? Like maybe we could have a cool Mad Max theme going on."

"Absolutely not," Padme frowned. She tried to imagine the monstrosity that was a Mad Max-themed home, and the image was gruesome enough to make her shudder. She’d need to hide those movies from her friend until after they finished decorating. "Besides, beaches are calming. And I promise I won't make it look cheesy."

"I vote painting the house bright yellow. Or pink."

"Gross!"

"Well you asked for my opinion, and I gave it!" Padme knew the shorter woman was teasing her, but it didn't stop Padme from scowling. She wished she would give her a straight answer sometimes.

"Well it's my house, so either way I'm going to do whatever I want with it." When Mindy stuck her tongue out at her, Padme couldn't help but crack a smile. "Seriously though. What colors?"

Mindy rolled her eyes but she still smiled as she pointed out a few satisfactory color combinations. "Happy?"

"Very."

"Great. Now can you help me with these boxes? This house isn't going to get moved into by itself, you know?" 

Padme laughed, placing the cards on the granite countertops before helping unpack the kitchen.

Truth be told, Padme didn't care how they decorated her house, so long as it was hers. Her parents were politicians, loaded with money. Although Padme had never been spoiled as a young girl, when she received her Bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice at just 22 years old, her parents had purchased a house between Stanford and the beach as a graduation present. It had been a complete surprise to her—she had saved her own money for her first car, and then for her second car, after all—but she was excited.

The house was three bedrooms, two baths—much too big for just herself. So naturally she invited Mindy to room with her. Mindy was more than happy to move out of cramped, over-priced apartments around campus where wild parties were a nightly occurrence.

Still, Padme wasn't sure what she was going to do with the third room. Work space, perhaps? She was just starting her graduate program to become a criminal defense lawyer. There were sure to be plenty of all-night study sessions in the coming years. A quiet study could come in handy. Or she could rent out the room—she was taking a break from her part time job as a receptionist at her dad's office this semester. She could use the extra money.

"Hello, earth to Padme?" Padme snapped back to reality, looking at her best friend. With cropped short dark brown hair and dark, sultry eyes that could stop a guy with one look, Mindy was a beauty queen, even in sweats and a stained tank top. "You're thinking about the house again, aren't you?"

"No," Padme blushed, "Okay, yeah, but there's so much to do! We only have a few days before the semester starts, and--"

"No. Not another word." Mindy stopped her, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, we're going to do another few hours of unpacking, but then we're going to get ready and go out to a party."

Padme groaned. "No, not tonight, we've got so much to do--"

"Yes, but it can wait. No arguments. You can't spend your entire college experience working. You haven't even had a boyfriend!"

"I've gone on plenty of dates. Besides, life isn’t all about finding a boyfriend."

"Dates that led _nowhere_ . I'm not saying you have to get a boyfriend—although seriously you should have at least _one_ while in college—but you have to get out and have fun once in a while." Mindy pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. "We're going. Or I paint badly drawn half naked Greek Gods on the living room wall."

"Wait, _what?"_

"I'm serious. Maybe I'll paint them worshiping a badly drawn depiction of myself…"

"Okay fine!" Padme laughed—where her friend got these ideas, she had no idea. But she also knew not to ignore a creative threat like that. "But then tomorrow we get right back to packing."

Satisfied that she'd won, Mindy grinned. "Par-tay!" She raised her hands up in victory. She turned back to the box she'd been working on, but paused. "If we're going to a party tonight, we should probably make sure our rooms are unpacked."

"Good idea. Wouldn't want to sleep on the floor."

They moved into their respective rooms to begin unpacking. As Padme entered the master bedroom she’d claimed as her own, she couldn't help but wonder why she was bothering to go to this party. By this point she was confident in her circle of friends; she wasn't looking to meet anyone new. Contrary to what Mindy thought, Padme didn't need or want a boyfriend. She had too much to do.

She was going to become a lawyer. She was going to climb her way to the top, and become just as successful as her parents. She would not fail.

And she had no plans to allow _anyone_ to get in her way.

* * *

Padme ducked into the dimly lit club, pushing her way through the throng of sweaty bodies, already wishing that she could turn around and book it back out the front door. She didn't have a problem with the crowd, necessarily, she just…didn't like the way people looked at her as she passed.

She had practically turned her room into a tornado of clothes looking for an outfit that was appropriate for a night out. She had finally settled on a low-back white dress with black pumps. She had pulled her curls up into a casual bun at the nape of her neck with a few strands falling around her face. It wasn't anything special, and most certainly not her best outfit, but as men eyed her with a hunger she didn’t like, women shot her glares.

_Why didn't I grab a ride with Mindy?_ She thought as she fought to keep a grimace from her face. She was just here to hang out with her friend. Not make new friends. _Definitely_ not make enemies.

The music pulsed louder as she made her way to the dance floor where she knew Mindy would already be. Mindy was always social—the only time Padme was sure that she wasn't was when she was sleeping, and even then Padme suspected she socialized in her dreams. As much as Padme groaned about the escapades Mindy dragged her on, she secretly recognized that without Mindy, she wouldn't have gotten out of her comfort zone as much as she had.

Padme scanned the crowd and spotted her friend dancing in the midst of some of their other friends from school. Smiling, Padme moved to join them.

A pair of hands grabbed her waist. "Hey baby, wanna dance?" a male voice slurred in her ear, obviously drunk.

Padme easily slid out of his grasp. "Not tonight." She said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. Still, his hands grasped for her.

"Aw come on, don't be like that baby." 

Padme bit back a growl. The man, though handsome, was not her type—and not just because he was drunk. With his pants sagging so that she could clearly see his checkered boxers and a cap twisted sideways on his head, and a gold chain dangling from his neck, he screamed _trying-too-hard._

"She said not tonight." 

Padme recognized her friend’s voice. She’d apparently left their friends, seeing the trouble her friend had gotten into, and Padme felt a rush of gratitude even as adrenaline still coursed through her. Mindy’s normally cheery voice had an edge to it--a dangerous one. The man seemed to pick up on it, because he backed off with some disappointed muttering. 

_“Men.”_ Mindy said when he’d gone, and Padme let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Assholes, the lot of ‘em.” 

“Didn’t you just tell me earlier today to get a boyfriend?” Despite what had just happened, Padme managed a weary smile. 

“Yes, but not _that_ one.” Mindy scowled before taking her hand and pulling her back towards their friends. “Come on, let’s dance!” 

Yes. Dance. She was here to have fun. She was with friends. The semester hadn’t started. For now, she could relax and forget about everything. She could have _fun._

So she allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor until they were completely surrounded by writhing, sweaty bodies. Throwing their hands in the air, the two began to dance their way into the night.

* * *

Anakin slammed onto wet pavement, struggling to gasp for breath as he tried to lift himself from the ground. Spots of darkness danced before his eyes, making it difficult to tell where he was. He managed to roll over onto his back to face the sky, cold rain drops falling onto his skin. He drew in deep breaths, feeling oxygen fill his lungs freely. Despite the pain in his ribs from the fall, it felt good to draw breath without the help of a cursed suit…

Wait. 

He was _Darth Vader._

Where was his suit?

As his vision cleared, he lifted his hands in front of his face to find…not metal limbs, but his own, tanned hands, free of scars and wrinkles.

Confusion clouded his mind and he panicked, sitting up so fast that his ribs protested, but he barely noticed. His head was scrambling to remember what had happened.

He had been Darth Vader. But then…he'd killed Sidious….and he'd turned to the Light and died in his son's arms….then he'd agreed to a second chance…

Slowly, he reached up with shaking hands and touched his smooth face. 

No scars. No wrinkles. No molted skin. 

He ran his fingers up his face into a full head of tangled curls. He stared forward, and he could see—feel—his legs. Real, fleshy, legs. 

He wasn't part machine. He didn't have a mirror, but he suspected that when he looked into one, he would see the face of the man he had discarded twenty four years ago.

It couldn't be real. It had to be a dream. Traveling back in time—it just wasn't possible. Wasn't it? 

Besides, he was dead.

But the dead couldn't feel pain. The bruised ribs protesting with each of his movements were telling him otherwise. And the cool air kissing his skin…his lungs filling with air….

He wasn't Darth Vader. He was Anakin Skywalker, and somehow, he was alive and young again.

Shaking, he stood, pressing himself against a brick wall, trying to get his bearings. He was in an alley of some sort. Trash littered the pavement, and the alley opened out into a dimly lit street. 

Where was he? He wondered groggily: was he in Coruscant? He looked up into the darkened sky, squinting against the rain drops. He briefly wondered at how cold and yet wonderful the rain felt against his bare skin, a sensation he thought he would never feel again.

There weren't any speeders in the sky. Or other ships entering the atmosphere. In fact, though he could hear plenty of city noises, he couldn't hear the zooms of any ships. Perhaps he was on another planet then. 

But which one?

He looked down at himself again. By now he was soaked to the bone, but when he took another look at what he was wearing, that didn't matter to him.

_What am I wearing?_

He wore a tight black shirt he was certain he’d never owned in his life. And his legs…they weren't covered by the breeches he was used to wearing, but rather a coarse dark blue material he hadn't seen before. Instead of boots, he wore…well he wasn't sure how to describe the flimsy material he wore on his feet.

Anakin looked back up at the far end of the alley, his breathing picking up as he panicked more and more. 

Where in the _galaxy_ had the Force taken him to?!

He reached inside of himself, calling on the Force, trying to use it to help him gauge just what he had been thrown into….

Nothing happened.

He tried again. He felt the Force within him, but when he tried to use it, it was as though the Force was blocked by some invisible barrier, and try as hard as he might, nothing could push it through into reality.

_Oh Force,_ Anakin thought as he entered full-on panic mode (something that he was NOT at all used to anymore): where HAD the Force thrown him?! 

Was this some sort of Force-immune world? 

Just his luck. Maybe his 'second chance' was a life without those he loved in a world where the Force didn't exist. He hadn't believed that was possible, but if this was actually his punishment like he was increasingly suspecting it was, he supposed anything was possible.

_No._

Squaring his shoulders, he turned and strode towards the street. He had spent twenty four years as the most feared man in the galaxy. He may have decided to turn towards the Light Side, but he wasn't going to turn into a whimpering boy and lose his control. He would figure this out. He always did. 

He was Darth….Anakin Skywalker.

He stopped at the mouth of the alley, looking around. Again, he couldn't tell where he was. There were no giant skyscrapers stretching high into the sky. He stood in a rundown street with lamps flickering on top of metal poles. Vehicles of some sort were parked on the curbs of the sidewalks, empty. Lights poured from draped windows in the crumbling brick buildings around him. He appeared to be alone.

_First things first,_ he thought as he began to walk— _find someone, find answers, then form a plan._

He would master his fear. Even if this had been a trick of the Force to punish him, he would master it. He was in charge of his own destiny this time. 

He would make sure of that.

* * *

Padme felt drops of sweat dripping down the back of her dress. She was sure her makeup was smearing, and her hair had begun to fall out of its bun. She breathed deep as she danced, feeling the exhilaration of the pulsing music thrumming through her veins down into her bones. If only she could spend every night like this… it felt good to let her guard down, to let loose and really be herself.

But as the song came to a close and she took a moment to pull out her phone and glance at the time, she realized that her night of fun was coming to an end. She had a house to pack before the craziness of school hit her. She couldn't be out all night.

She gripped Mindy's arm. "I need to get home!" she shouted over the next song as it began to play, "Did you have anything to drink tonight?" She didn't recall seeing her friend with any alcohol, but then again Mindy had come to the club before she had.

"No mother!" Mindy rolled her eyes. "Come on, stay out longer!"

Padme was already shaking her head, more hair falling out of the bun. "I really have to go. I'll see you at home—if you decide to drink, call a cab. Your car can wait in the parking garage."

Mindy waved her off, already ready to get back to the party. Padme hesitated, but eventually she pulled away from her friend and began to make her way out of the club, already making mental plans of what she was going to do when she got home.

* * *

Finding out where he had been taken to was much harder than he anticipated. After turning down twisting, empty residential streets, he had finally come across a busier street with people walking down the sidewalks and those….flightless vehicles whooshing past him. One of them had splattered a muddy puddle all over him, making him growl in frustration and anger, his hands twitching as he instinctively reached for a dark, malevolent power that no longer was at his fingertips. 

They wouldn't have dared do that to him if he'd still been Darth Vader. But he wasn't. So he quickly forced himself to swallow his anger.

Trying to engage people in conversation didn't go in his favor either. Most people he approached quickly hurried the opposite direction, as though they could still sense the Dark Side in him—perhaps they could. He wasn't sure what the rules of this world were.

But it was the people he managed to briefly talk to that really caused anger to simmer in his blood. "What star system are we in?" He asked the first man he'd come across.

"Screw you." Came the gruff reply as the man shoved past him. Anakin resisted the urge to follow after him and attempt to Force-choke the answer out of him and moved on. Surely there were more helpful people on this planet.

"What planet is this?" He asked another couple as they walked down the street.

They laughed at the question. "A little too much to drink buddy?" The man asked. Anakin scowled, but shook his head. "Riiiiight." They walked by without another word, laughing as though Anakin had made some joke.

"Are there any Jedi on this planet?" He asked one elderly woman as she hobbled out of her vehicle.

She threw him a nasty glare and held up some odd brass symbol and thrust it in his face. "Begone, Satan worshiper!" 

He wasn't sure what that was, but he was pretty sure she regarded Satan worshipers the same way that Jedi regarded Sith.

On and on he approached people, trying to figure out where he was, but everyone he approached assumed that he was crazy or drunk. It was as though they had never heard of space travel, or Jedi, or the Force, or anything that was familiar to him. More and more he grew frustrated, until finally he raised his hand to Force choke a hooded man. Of course nothing happened no matter how hard he concentrated, and the man scoffed. "Go home man. You're drunk." And stalked off.

Finally he gave up trying to talk to people, and instead wandered the streets aimlessly, looking for something that might give him some clue as to where he had ended up. So far, he continued to find rundown buildings and closed stores—although there were a bunch of signs hanging in windows that said "Go Lakers!" But that didn't help him much.

He turned yet another corner, wondering just how big this city was, when he finally saw an open store, light streaming out into an empty parking lot. Maybe there was someone….or rather, _something_ that would help him figure out where he was.

He stepped out into the street, eyes on his prize, anticipating whatever he would discover there, when suddenly out of nowhere beams of light filled his vision. There was a screech of tires, and the next thing he knew one of those metal vehicles was barreling towards him faster than his reflexes could take, and although it screeched to an almost halt by the time it got to him, the bumper still slammed into him, sending him sprawling towards the black pavement.

For the second time that night Anakin hit the ground, this time smacking his head against the blacktop, and the next thing he knew he was fading into darkness, a female voice crying out in alarm in the distance…


	2. Angel

Showered and dried, Padme changed into her black sweats and maroon Stanford t-shirt before maneuvering herself out to her living room where she had pulled out her laptop. Settling into the corner of the couch (the only cushion not stacked with boxes), she opened up her email to check for emails from her professors, listening to the rain pound against the window. 

She was looking forward to a calm night in. She’d finish up some emails, maybe watch a true crime documentary, and then head off to bed. Maybe she’d get a cup of tea--

The front door opened. 

"Hey," she called absent-mindedly, not looking up from her computer.

"Um. Hi." 

Padme's fingers stilled on the keyboard. She didn't like the tone of Mindy's voice—distant, cautious, worried. If Mindy sounded like that….Padme almost didn't want to know. 

"Could you, uh, give me a hand here?"

"With wha— _ who  _ is that?" 

Padme had finally looked up to find her friend struggling under the weight of an unconscious man, both of them soaking wet from the rain pattering outside. She couldn’t see his face, not when he was slumped over Mindy’s shoulder. Actually, his weight seemed to be dragging her down. 

Padme felt her stomach tighten. 

"Don't tell me you're already bringing guys over. Couldn't you have waited for us to finish unpacking?" She tried to laugh, but it came out nervous. She didn’t want to assume the worst. She didn’t want to  _ think  _ about the legal problems this could bring her friend...

"I wasn't. It's not like that. Just move the boxes." 

Padme quickly placed the laptop on the coffee table and began moving boxes. Briefly she shuddered at the thought of Mindy placing a soaking stranger on her brand new couch, but she quickly pushed that thought away. It wasn't like she spent that much on it.

Mindy dragged the man over to the couch and dropped him onto the cushions with a grunt. The man almost slid off, but both Padme and Mindy caught him and pushed him back up, rolling him onto his back so they could get a better look at him.

The man was young, maybe about her age. He had curly hair that barely reached his shoulders, a thin scar on his right eye, and tan skin that suggested he'd spent long hours out under the sun. His black t-shirt, wet, clung to his skin, doing nothing to hide the rock hard abs underneath.

He was  _ handsome. _

"Who is he?" Padme breathed, slowly straightening as her heart raced.

There was a hesitation.

"I, uh, don't know." 

Padme forced herself to look away from the handsome unconscious man on her couch, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean,  _ you don't know? _ You brought home some random unconscious stranger?"

"Kind of," Mindy blushed, looking down at her now ruined outfit. "I, um, hit him."

Padme blinked. "Like, you punched him?"

"No." Mindy cleared her throat, not daring to look at Padme. "With my car."

"You did WHAT?!" Padme shouted, instantly worried for the man on her couch and angry with her friend at the same time. She honestly didn’t know where to begin--yell at her friend for her idiotic behavior? Call an ambulance? Both? "Did you take him to the hospital?!"

"Uh, no…"

_ "Why?!" _ This couldn't be happening. Mindy had pulled some dumb stunts before, but this? Padme resisted the urge to grab her shoulders and shake sense into her. "Please don't tell me you were drinking…" Mindy remained silent, answering Padme's question. She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "I told you to take a cab home!"

"It was only two martinis!" Mindy protested, "I'm not even dizzy. It was raining though, and dark, and he just came out of nowhere. I mean he's not exactly dressed to stand out at night."

"It doesn't matter,  _ you hit him with your car! _ " Padme knelt down beside him, lifting his shirt to check his torso. There were a few bruises, but nothing looked serious. That didn't mean anything though. He could have been bleeding internally, or he could have broken ribs. She was almost afraid to touch him now. "And instead of doing the right thing and taking him to a hospital, regardless of your consequences, you  _ kidnapped _ him and might have made his injuries worse by moving him! If he wakes up and decides to sue you or press charges, he totally could! I don't need to be a future lawyer to predict that!"

"I didn't hit him  _ that _ hard," Mindy protested, but it was half-hearted. "I mostly stopped before I hit him. It was really just a bump, but he fell and hit his head…"

"Oh great, so he just has a concussion probably!" Padme sarcastically snapped, glaring back up at her. "We need to take him to a hospital.  _ Now." _

"But they're going to want to know what happened, and then they'll want to do a breathalyzer test and I'm totally going to fail that!" Mindy groaned. "I'll be lucky if they just suspend my license…"

"Maybe next time you should listen to me--" Padme cut off as the man began to stir, groaning. She stood back up, wanting to give him space, but her hands itched to do something productive. Still, he was a stranger, and she didn't think he'd take too kindly to waking up to find his kidnapper's friend touching him all over.

"See? He's waking up. He's fine."

"Shut up, Mindy. That’s literally not how this works!" Growled Padme as she watched the man's eyes flutter open to reveal crystal clear blue eyes.

Eyes she swore she’d seen somewhere before. 

Anakin was first aware of the splitting headache pounding through his head. He hadn't had his body back for more than a few hours, and already he was injuring himself. It was his own fault. He should have paid more attention to his surroundings. But he had always been impulsive—Darth Vader had not changed that about him.

The next thing he was aware of was voices. Female. Talking about him. One of them was defensive but miserable, while the other was filled with anger and worry. The worried voice pricked something in his memory—it sounded so familiar, but with the splitting headache, it was impossible for him to place.

He furrowed his brows against the pain, groaning as he struggled to open his eyes against the light in the room he was in. 

"See? He's waking up. He's fine."

"Shut up, Mindy. That’s literally not how this works!" 

Finally Anakin opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was on a white couch in a room filled with labeled boxes. He instinctively tried to use the Force to gauge just what exactly he was facing, but again the Force was blocked and he was unable to use it.

Frustrated, Anakin turned his head himself, identifying the owners of the voices. The first woman he saw was his age. She was soaked like he was, dripping onto the carpet below her. She had dark short hair, wearing white pants and a revealing black top. 

He didn’t know her. At least, he doubted he did. If that was the case, her voice was not the one he recognized. 

He turned to look at the other occupant in the room. 

And the entire galaxy stopped. 

He couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

Twenty four years. He had imagined seeing her again for  _ twenty four years. _ Every time he had fallen asleep, he had dreamed about her. Over and over again, he had replayed the awful night on Mustafar in his mind. Their last conversation. How she had begged him to run away with her, to raise their child, to turn away from the Dark Side. He had lashed out at her,  _ hurt her,  _ put his unborn children in danger…

And here she stood. Alive.

His Padme. His  _ angel… _

"Um. Sir?" The other girl was saying, but he barely heard her. He just stared at Padme, unable to function. For the first time, he was speechless. He didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to reach out and touch her, pull her to him and kiss her passionately like he had longed to do for twenty four, long, horrible years.

But guilt stopped him--guilt at how he had hurt her.

And from the look on her face, she didn't know him. Not in this world. She looked worried for him, but it was the worry one would have for a stranger.

He was a stranger to her. Twenty four years of wanting to make things right again, and she didn't even know him. How could he put things right if she didn't know who he was?

His head pounded even harder from the confusion, the guilt, the longing…

"Are you alright sir? Do you remember what happened?" The other girl was asking. 

Anakin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. What could he say to her? What  _ should  _ he say? He sought answers from the Force, but yet again it was frustratingly silent.

So he said the first thing that popped into his head. "You’re still an angel..."

Bewilderment flashed across Padme's face, just as it had the first time. "What?" Her response to him was the same. He wondered if he explained the exact same way he had the first time, if she would smile and tell him he was a funny…well, man now. Still, he had only blurted it out this time not just because she was even more beautiful than she had been in his memories, but because he still wasn't sure what sort of world this was.

"He thinks he's dead," the other girl whispered.

Padme frowned. "No, you're not dead.” Then, as though the thought just occurred to her, “Do you feel like you're going to die?"

Anakin couldn't help but snort at that. He had already died. He felt like crap, but this wasn't anywhere close to dying. "No."

She relaxed a little. "Good. My friend here hit you with her car. She  _ should _ have taken you to a hospital, but she brought you here to our house instead. I can take you to a hospital if you want.” She gave him a look over, and he tensed. “In fact, I highly suggest it."

Anakin forced himself upright, his eyes never leaving her face. 

There was no recognition in her eyes. She looked at him like he was a complete stranger, washed up on her couch, in need of help. A big part of him raged at the thought of needing any kind of help. The other reminded him that he didn't deserve her. Just being in her presence, he kept replaying the image of the betrayal in her eyes as he had choked her. 

How would she look at him if he told her what he'd done after she had died?

He should tell her he was fine, that he didn’t need any assistance. He could figure it out from there. He had spent an entire lifetime commanding armies, after all. He’d figure this world out too. 

But to know that she was alive,  _ breathing  _ on the same planet…

Even if she didn’t know who he was any longer, her presence soothed him. Despite the guilt. Despite how much he hated himself for what he’d done to her...

He still loved her, with every fiber of his being.

And he couldn’t let her go. Not again. 

"What's your name?" She asked him when he said nothing for a long time.

Years of denying his real name made his throat tighten for a moment. A dozen responses that a Sith would say entered his mind, but he couldn’t speak to her like that. He would never again be Darth Vader, especially in her presence. "….Anakin Skywalker." 

"Do you want to go to a hospital?" Again, that open concern. Even in this world she was always looking out for others. She may not remember him, but she was still the pure soul he had fallen in love with.

"No," Anakin had always hated doctors. His experience with them over the last two decades had not been  _ pleasant.  _

Padme hesitated, obviously debating on pressing the subject. "Okay, well where do you live? Is there someone we can call to help you?"

Anakin paused. Yet again, he had no idea where he was. He wasn't sure how to respond, remembering the rather hostile behavior of the people he had questioned earlier that night. He didn't know what would be an appropriate response though, so he decided to go with a half-truth. 

"I don't know."

Padme looked puzzled. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Anakin raced to figure out a response, but yet again he came up with nothing. It didn't help that he was still distracted by her. If she would let him, he would have been content to stare at her forever. 

_ Not creepy at all, _ he thought sarcastically. And probably not what normal, non-Sith people did. 

"I mean," he said slowly, debating each word carefully, "I don't know where I live in this world. I'm not even sure what planet I'm on."

Padme's worry melted into full on panic, and she whirled on the other girl in the room. "He has AMNESIA! I TOLD you he needed a hospital!" The other girl looked pretty panicked too, and instantly Anakin regretted his words. Obviously he had just made their fears a reality. "You need to go to the hospital. Now!"

"No," Anakin quickly said, holding up his hands in an effort to somehow show that he was…well, okay enough not to go to a hospital. "I was, um, having issues before I was hit." That didn't seem to alleviate Padme's panic, but the other girl seemed to calm a little more. Stars, he wished he could use the Force to guide him through this conversation…

"So you should have gone to a doctor before this then." Padme continued, "How long have you been wandering around out there?"

"A few hours, maybe? I haven't been out long. Look, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just need some answers and I'll figure out a plan." Anakin winced—he didn't sound convincing, even to himself. But Padme, although clearly skeptical, relented a little.

"Okay fine. What do you want to know?" She seemed apprehensive, as though she felt she would regret that question later.

_ How are you alive? Could you ever forgive me? Would you ever love me again?  _ Those were just the tip of the planet of questions he wanted to ask her, but he knew he couldn't. Even if she did remember, he knew those questions still would have been a struggle for him to ask.

"What planet are we on?" Is what he settled for. Simple. To the point. And from the look on her face, probably not the first question she expected him to ask. In fact, she looked like she’d swallowed something rotten. 

"Well, we're on the planet Earth," 

Earth? He'd never heard of it before. So developing a plan based on prior knowledge was out of the question. 

She continued. "Specifically, we live in the United States of America. And even more specifically, we live in California, which is one of America's states. Is any of this ringing a bell?"

Anakin hesitated, wanting to lie to calm her, but he couldn't. None of that was anything he could work with to even begin faking his way through a conversation. "No."

Her face fell. "Oh. Okay, what else?"

"What star system is this planet in?" Again, not a question she expected. She looked at her friend in concern.

Her friend shrugged. "Maybe he's one of those Star Trek nerds and he was here for a convention or something and now that he can't remember much he's relying on that?"

"I don't know what Star Trek is." Anakin grumbled, increasingly becoming more frustrated. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't have the use of the Force right now, because for the past twenty four years whenever he was frustrated or angry he tended to lash out. He did not want to risk that happening right now, as much as he sort of wanted to.

_ You are no longer Darth Vader, _ he repeated to himself. _ Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.  _ It was the only thing he had to cling to in this craziness.

"Don't worry about that," Padme said, but she looked like she was considering her friend's words seriously. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'star system,' but our star is the Sun if that helps." Anakin shook his head. What an uninventive name for a star. "Okay, well we live in the Milky Way Galaxy."

Milky Way Galaxy? 

Suddenly he felt dizzy, like he was about to be sick. 

He wasn't even in the same galaxy.

_ What had he gotten himself into? _

"Look, I really think you should at least see a doctor at the very least. My family has a good doctor that we can go to tomorrow morning. He's trustworthy, I promise. And if you're concerned about money, don't worry about it. My friend hit you with a car," She shot a glare at her friend who blushed. "It's the least that I can do."

Anakin hesitated, still wary of doctors, but it was obvious that Padme wasn't going to let it go. "Will it put you at ease if we go to this doctor?"

"Yes." Her response was firm, and he saw the pleading in her beautiful, dark eyes. His eyes traveled to her lips, and again he had the urge to close the distance between them and kiss her and never let go.

But he didn't. Instead he sighed, running a hand over his face--and tried not to marvel at how he could do that now. "Fine," He said, looking back up at her. "But only to calm you down."

She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping, and for the first time it occurred to Anakin just how late it was. She was probably exhausted. More guilt hit him—he always seemed to cause her worry and stress, even when she didn't remember who he was to her. "Good." She said. "By the way. My name is Padme."

"And I'm Mindy," said the other girl, "And, uh, sorry for hitting you with my car."

"I should have been looking where I was going," Anakin mumbled, and he saw Mindy shoot Padme an  _ "I-told-you-so" _ look. "It's nice to meet both of you. Thank you for your help. I'm sorry that I've placed this burden on your shoulders…" 

The apology felt funny in his mouth—he was certainly sorry for the stress he was obviously causing, but he hadn't uttered an apology in years. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little lighter after saying it.

"Don't worry about that, worry about yourself right now." Padme chided, "Now, let's see about finding you something dry to wear, shall we?"


End file.
